_Guy_. Had I not fought, or durst not fight again, I my suspected counsel should refrain; For I wish peace, and any terms prefer, Before the last extremities of war. We but exasperate those we cannot harm, And fighting gains us but to die more warm: If that be cowardice, which dares not see The insolent effects of victory, The rape of matrons, and their childrens cries,-- Then I am fearful, let the brave advise. _Odm_. Keen cutting swords, and engines killing far, Have prosperously begun a doubtful war: But now our foes with less advantage fight, Their strength decreases with our Indians' fright. _Mont_. This noble vote does with my wish comply,-- I am for war. _Alm_. And so am I. _Orb_. And I. _Mont_. Then send to break the truce, and I'll take care To chear the soldiers, and for fight prepare. [_Exeunt_ MONT. ODM. GUY. _and_ ALIB. _Alm_. to _Orb_. 'Tis now the hour which all to rest allow, And sleep sits heavy upon every brow; In this dark silence softly leave the town, [GUYOMAR _returns, and hears them_. And to the general's tent,--'tis quickly known,-- Direct your steps: You may despatch him: strait, Drowned in his sleep, and easy for his fate: Besides, the truce will make the guards more slack. _Orb_. Courage, which leads me on, will bring me back.-- But I more fear the baseness of the thing: Remorse, you know, bears a perpetual sting. _Alm_. For mean remorse no room the valiant find, Repentance is the virtue of weak minds; For want of judgment keeps them doubtful still, They may repent of good, who can of ill; But daring courage makes ill actions good, 'Tis foolish pity spares a rival's blood; You shall about it strait. [_Exeunt_ ALM. _and_ ORB. _Guy_. Would they betray His sleeping virtue, by so mean a way!-- And yet this Spaniard is our nation's foe,-- I wish him dead,--but cannot wish it so;-- Either my country never must be freed, Or I consenting to so black a deed.-- Would chance had never led my steps this way! Now if he dies, I murder him, not they;-- Something must be resolved ere 'tis too late;-- He gave me freedom, I'll prevent his fate. [_Exit_. SCENE II.--_A Camp_. _Enter CORTEZ alone, in a night-gown_. _Cort_. All things are hushed, as nature's self lay dead; The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head; The little birds, in dreams, their songs repeat, And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat. Even lust and envy sleep; yet love denies Rest to my soul, and slumber to my eyes.-- Three days I promised to attend my doom, And two long days and nights are yet to come:-- 'Tis sure the noise of some tumultuous fight, [_Noise within_. They break the truce, and sally out by night. _Enter_ ORBELLAN, _flying in the dark, his sword drawn_. _Orb_. Betrayed! pursued! O, whither shall I fly? See, see! the just reward of treachery!-- I'm sure among the tents, but know not where; Even night wants darkness to secure my fear. [_Comes near_ CORTEZ, _who hears him_. _Cort_. Stand! who goes there?